


Mr. Tomlinson

by iwillpaintasongforlou



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alpha Harry, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, Alternate Universe, Bottom Louis, CEO Louis, M/M, Mating, Omega Louis, Scenting, Top Harry, billionaire louis, yes of course there's sex in it you know me by now
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-25
Updated: 2015-03-25
Packaged: 2018-03-19 14:49:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,268
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3613929
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iwillpaintasongforlou/pseuds/iwillpaintasongforlou
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Louis is a billionaire CEO who makes grown men cry and rival companies crumble. He's also an omega. Harry is the quiet cupcake of a man he calls his alpha and the only one who gets to see Louis as anything less than fearsome.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mr. Tomlinson

**Author's Note:**

  * For [eyesofshinigami](https://archiveofourown.org/users/eyesofshinigami/gifts).



> For Leslie, my darling girl, my heart, my love, my soulmate, my favorite human, who is turning 28 today and deserves 28 times as much happiness as last year. And a ton of birthday sex. Love you, girl <3

_Mr. Tomlinson._

As the CEO of a company with over a hundred thousand employees, Louis hears people saying his name all the time. ‘Mr. Tomlinson, we need your signature.’ He hears them handle it with care, wrapping their tongue around the sharp edges and feeling the bite of each syllable as a reminder of why it is to be respected. ‘Mr. Tomlinson, excuse me, do you have a moment?’ Every time Louis hears it whispered in a doorway passed (‘That’s _the_ Mr. Tomlinson!’) or shouted across a crowd by a desperate reporter (‘Please, Mr. Tomlinson, any comment on reports you’ve now made a billion pounds?’) he can feel the power of those simple words magnify until he’s something greater than he knew a man could be.

But of all of the hundreds of times a day that Louis hears his title, his favorite is when it’s purred in that deep, smooth voice that always seems to surprise people when it comes out of a man with such brilliant green eyes and graceful curls and pinkened lips. “Good evening, Mr. Tomlinson,” Harry drawls from the entrance to Louis’ office, leaning up against the doorframe and looking far too much like a Yves Saint Laurent model for Louis’ poor heart to handle.

“Good evening, Alpha,” Louis answers at once, his heart stuttering a little at the sight of his fiancé. Harry must hear the falter in tempo because a smile slides across his face at the same time it does Louis’, until they’re grinning at each other like two idiots in love.

(They are.)

“What’s my world-changer up to today, hmm?” Harry pushes off the wall and strolls over with hands in pockets to where Louis is sitting behind his desk, then leans down to press a kiss to Louis’ mouth. He’s got this way of kissing Louis where he’s just as firm and strong as can be while still being reverent in his touches, and it makes Louis melt into his chair a very little bit.

“Had a meeting today, with the board of a company we’re going to take over,” Louis sighs, leaning his face into Harry’s hand where it rests on his cheek. “Every single one of those men stared at me the whole time because I’m an omega. You’d think they’d be more interested in how I was going to take every penny they had.”

“Hey, look on the bright side. Maybe they were just staring because of that fantastic bum you’ve got on you,” Harry says sagely.

Apparent perfection of Louis’ bum aside, they both know that it isn’t curves that make people ogle him constantly. For over a decade Louis had hidden his gender as he climbed the corporate ladder, shelling out for suppressants far too expensive for anybody in a lowly intern position to afford and letting everyone believe that this feisty up-and-comer was as alpha as he seemed. Only Harry, who had lived next door to Louis since long before he could cover up his heats, knew the truth.

When Louis made CEO at 28, he finally let on that he was an omega and Harry his mate. It was just as well that they’d had their decade of dating peacefully, because the second the truth came out, the whole world wanted a piece of the baby billionaire omega. It wasn’t until Louis got papped taking out the trash in a vest one day that people saw the mark and stopped asking if this wasn’t all a ruse. The whispers and the stares didn’t stop then, however. _There goes Mr. Tomlinson- did you hear he’s an omega?_

Harry runs his knuckle along the line of Louis’ cheekbone with a gentle smile, pulling him from his thoughts. “I came to get you for dinner, you hungry?”

“Starving,” Louis says at once, his afternoon snack of coffee and cigarettes long gone. “You feel like steak? I could really go for a nice cut from that place round the corner, I bet I can get us a table if they know who I am-”

The babbling musings are cut off by a knock at Louis’ open door, and both Harry and Louis look up to find a mousy young beta intern with a nervous expression and a folder clutched in both of his hands. He looks between the two of them as if unsure which of them he’s supposed to address, his boss or the alpha. In the end he chooses to address the floor. “Excuse me Mr. Tomlinson, I’m so sorry to bother you. I brought this file for you.”

Louis shoots Harry an apologetic smile - _work, sorry_ \- and waits until Harry winks good-naturedly and sprawls across the couch off to one side of the room to answer the peon. “Geoffrey, right? What’s this, then?” he asks calmly, reaching out to accept the folder being offered to him and scanning quickly through the pages.

“That’s the Wilkinson numbers, sir.”

“Right, of course. Tell me, Geoffrey, can you read?”

The question startles the poor boy’s eyes wide. “Y-yes sir, of course.”

“Then come around here for a moment. Come on, chop chop, come here.” Louis beckons him around the desk until Geoffrey is standing next to him, then gestures to the little tear-away calendar perched on the corner. “Can you read that page for me, Geoffrey?”

An audible gulp. “Friday, March 27th, 2015. Sir.”

“Mmhmm. Are you positive it doesn’t say Wednesday? Because I distinctly remember telling you to have this on my desk by Wednesday, and to do it any other day would be a bit like spitting in my face, don’t you think?”

There is definitely no more blood in Geoffrey’s face as he pales completely, eyes locked on Louis’ in something nearing panic. “No sir, not at all-- I mean yes, you did, but-- it was Jones, he was supposed to compile the data and he was late getting it to me--”

“Let me teach you something about business, Geoffrey,” Louis interrupts, leaning forward in his chair and somehow managing to look down on Geoffrey even if the other man is standing. “When a task has been given to you, it is your responsibility to complete it. If you want to ask others for help, that’s fine, but whether they do the work or not is now your responsibility as well. I didn’t ask Jones to get this to me Wednesday, I asked _you._ Which means that the next time I ask for something on a Wednesday I had damn well better see it on Tuesday afternoon or it will be _your_ arse that’s fired, not Jones. Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes sir,” Geoffrey says weakly with his gaze on the floor, and Louis might feel bad about the way the boy’s hands are shaking if this weren’t exactly how he learned responsibility years ago in Geoffrey’s place. Some lessons have to be learned the hard way.

But of all his many attributes Louis is not cruel, so after a pause he just sighs and waves a hand towards the door. “You’re dismissed.”

Geoffrey scurries from the office and closes the door behind him, Harry smirking as he watches him go. “He just peed his pants a little bit, did you smell that?”

“It happens more often than you’d think around here. Weak bladders, the whole lot.”

Harry laughs, dimples flashing all too innocently as he rises from the couch and comes to tug Louis from his chair and into an embrace. “You’re so hot when you’re being bossy,” he murmurs, winding his arms around Louis’ waist.

“I prefer ‘in charge,’” Louis correctly mildly.

He rises up on tiptoes just a bit to kiss Harry, letting out a soft noise of surprise when the younger man deepens the kiss instead of letting Louis pull away. Harry’s tongue darts out to tease across Louis’ lower lip, humming in satisfaction when those thin lips part and give him access to taste him. “Are you wearing them?” he purrs into Louis’ mouth between kisses.

He’s referring to the lacy pink panties Harry had thrown at him this morning as they both got dressed for work, accompanied with a wink and a simple, ‘For tonight?’ Harry had left the room without even bothering to see if Louis had complied. “That’s dangerous,” Louis argues now. “What if someone saw? That would ruin my image. I need people to respect me.”

“Yes, but I know something you love even more than seeing fear in your employees’ eyes,” Harry says smugly, one hand leaving the safety of Louis’ waist and traveling down across the swell of his bum, strong fingers pressing into the soft flesh hungrily.

Louis wraps his fingers around Harry’s wrist and tugs until the hand returns to his waist, ignoring Harry’s sigh and the staccato beat of his own heart. “Not in the office, you know the rules,” he says with only minimal resolve.

“Better get you home, then,” Harry says quickly, grin bright and mischievous.

“No, better get me to dinner like you promised, you oaf,” Louis huffs, and Harry pretends to let Louis push him away as he reaches for his coat. “You know very well that the way into my pants is through my stomach.”

Harry just smiles serenely and takes the coat from Louis, instead holding it out so the smaller man can slip into it and then spinning him around to button it up until Louis is snug and warm inside. “Steak it is, then, love.”

…………………

“I think that was the best cheesecake that I’ve ever had,” Louis says reverently, staring down at his plate. There’s exactly one bite left, and on the one hand he might explode if he tries to finish it, but on the other hand it’s creamy and chocolatey and drizzled with caramel and not eating it would sort of be a crime against humanity. “It tastes like sunshine and wedding songs and magic.”

“Should I be concerned about how much love is in your gaze?” Harry muses with a smirk. “I’m pretty sure I could snap a picture and use it as evidence of infidelity in the divorce.”

“Not even funny,” snaps Louis quickly, but he’s still smiling. “Knew I should have gotten a prenup. I trusted your dimples far too easily.”

Harry is probably about to make some sort of witty comment about how his dimples are worth every penny in Louis’ bank accounts anyways (they are) when the waiter sidles up alongside the table with a serene smile. “Thank you so much for dining with us this evening, sirs. If there’s anything else I can get for you, please let me know.” He pulls the black folder containing the check from the pocket of his apron and holds it out for Louis to take.

It’s reflex that leads Louis to accept the check, but as soon as his fingers close around the book his blood runs cold. A quick glance at Harry finds him staring stonily at the waiter, the only spark in an otherwise blank expression being the irritation in his eyes. There are many rules dictating how mated pairs are to be treated, especially alpha and omega; all bills, for example, are to be handed to the alpha alone, _never_ the omega. Giving the check to an omega is equivalent to spitting in his partner’s face by implying he isn’t alpha enough to take care of business, and Harry’s sudden, quiet anger says he feels the blow.

Louis shoves the check across the table towards Harry, almost dropping it in his haste, eager to let go of it like it might burn his very skin. “Thank you, darling,” Harry says smoothly, just a hint of alpha bass in his voice. He doesn’t look away from the waiter as he accepts the check, withering gaze still burning holes in the man’s face.

The waiter, for his part, goes from serene to confused as the exchange plays out, then from confused to mortified as he trails his eyes down Louis’ neck to find the mark peeking out around his unbuttoned collar and realizes in a rush of panic that it’s _Harry_ who’s the alpha, not Louis. “I’m-- I--” he starts to say, then simply turns on his heel and scurries away as fast as he can.

You could hear a pin drop at the table for a long moment as Louis watches Harry carefully and Harry watches the waiter retreat with narrowed eyes. “Well he just chopped his tip in half,” Harry says grumpily, looking down at last to retrieve his wallet from his pocket.

He says it with just enough flippancy that Louis laughs along, but they’ve been mates for over a decade and that’s plenty long enough for Louis to hear the little crack of frustration in his voice. “Let’s get out of here, I’m ready to go home,” he says quietly, reaching out to brush his fingers across the back of Harry’s hand.

Harry tosses a few bills into the folder and looks up into Louis’ eyes, unable to hide the fondness he feels even with all of his irritation at the waiter. “Of course,” he says, and his voice is all softness. “Let’s go home.”

Louis is on him like glue the whole way home, holding his hand across the center console in the car, walking millimeters behind him up the front walk, winding his arms around Harry’s waist and pulling him in for a tight hug the second their coats are off. “Let’s get some wine and watch your baking show thing,” he suggests, nuzzling into Harry’s shirt. “I can sit in your lap and we can cover up with the super fuzzy blanket.”

“What’s got you all cuddly?” Harrys asks with amusement, carding the fingers of one hand through Louis’ hair. “Not that I’m complaining, but usually I have to beg you or blow you to get you to watch with me.”

There’s really no sense in lying, so Louis shrugs and tells the truth. “I can tell you’re still upset about what happened at the restaurant. Just thought you might like to unwind a little bit so that you feel better.”

“I’m fine, Lou, I’m not mad,” Harry sighs, but he hugs Louis infinitessimally tighter. “One of us said ‘please’ when ordering food and the other didn’t even look at the man. Of course he thought you were the dominant partner. You don’t have to watch my show with me just because some waiter didn’t understand our dynamic.”

“But I want to though.” Louis presses a kiss to Harry’s shoulder and runs his fingertips gently over the curve of Harry’s shoulderblades.

“It’s fine, seriously.”

“Just let me make you feel better.”

“I’m not fucking mad, Lou!”

“Harry, please, I just want to please my alpha--”

The word must snap something inside of Harry, because his title has barely left Louis’ lips before the omega is being pinned up against the nearest wall with his legs around Harry’s waist and Harry’s face buried in the crook of his neck. “Say it again,” Harry demands, inhaling deeply to fill his head with Louis’ scent and calm the sudden pounding of his heart.

“Alpha,” Louis replies at once, voice breathy with surprise, hands petting at Harry’s curls. “You’re such a good alpha, the best alpha.”

A growl. _“Your_ alpha.”

 _“My_ alpha, yes, fucking perfect alpha!” Harry’s hands are digging deep into Louis’ hips, hard enough to bruise, and Louis’ cock twitches in interest despite the fact that he should probably be thinking less about Harry’s giant hands and more about his ruined evening.

It doesn’t escape Harry’s notice though --things about Louis rarely do-- and he doesn’t seem to mind, moving one hand to work roughly at Louis’ belt and the fly of his trousers. When he slips his hand inside, his fingers trail over cool silk and soft lace, only serving to thicken Louis’ cock further as he mewls quietly at the sensation. “You _are_ wearing them,” Harry comments with a coy smile.

Louis does his best to stop digging his fingernails into Harry’s scalp every time the man strokes him through the panties and focuses instead on arching into the touch as much as he can while pinned so tightly to the wall. “Of course I am. You were right, I do love you more than I love seeing fear in someone’s eyes.”

It’s then that Harry tilts his head up to kiss Louis hard, running the heel of his palm over Louis’ silk-clad balls as he does so. Louis tries to gasp but can’t find the air to, not with Harry’s mouth so insistently on his own. He’s starting to get dizzy when Harry slips his fingers beneath the fabric to play lightly at his rim and he’s allowed to pull his mouth away so he can groan quietly at the sensation.

“You know, you’re a lot less intimidating when you’re getting slick all over my fingers,” Harry comments smugly as Louis squirms between him and the wall.

“Extenuating circumstances,” pants Louis, head thrown back. “You have amazing fingers.”

“I’m the only one who gets to see you like this,” Harry whispers into Louis’ ear just before he pushes two fingers inside of him.

Louis cries out and tries to push down onto the fingers, arousal making him looser by the second. Harry only pins him tighter, every wiggle now utterly fruitless, unable to do anything but take it as Harry pushes his fingers in and out of Louis’ slick warmth. He finds the slight man’s prostate and adds a third finger to drag across it, Louis’ thighs twitching helplessly around Harry with every stroke. His grip on Harry’s shoulders is just this side of painful, cock now fully hard where it’s trapped mercilessly between their stomachs.

“H-harry,” Louis stammers, licking his lips and trying to compose his strained voice into something understandable. “HarryHarryHarry, take me upstairs, fuck.”

“Why should I?” Harry fucks his fingers into Louis with particular vigor, humming with satisfaction at the heightened pitch of Louis’ babble. “I’m having fun, aren’t you?”

“Come on, want your cock,” Louis says in frustration, pushing weakly at Harry in an effort to get down and take control. “Harry please, I-- Alpha, I need you to--”

His feet hit the floor before he can finish the sentence, one of Harry strong arms holding him up when his knees threaten to buckle. Once he’s steady Harry kisses him, sweetly, hands pushing at Louis’ clothes piece by piece and guiding him gently out of them as he strips down himself. “Bedroom.”

Louis makes a break for the stairs, protesting when Harry picks him up bridal style and starts to carry his mate himself. “I can walk upstairs by myself, Harry, I don’t need your help,” he huffs, trying to free himself from Harry’s arms to no avail. Harry’s only answer is a possessive little growl that effectively puts an end to Louis’ protests.

Finally they reach the bedroom and Louis lets out a soft noise of surprise as Harry sets him down on his front rather than his back as usual. Harry’s always been the type to want to fuck face to face, to watch Louis’ expressions, to kiss him as he knots inside and fills him up. Now though, he takes his pillow and puts it beneath Louis’ hips, nudging Louis’ knees gently apart and draping himself over his back like a burning hot blanket so he can kiss the back of Louis’ neck. “Ready for me?”

“Jesus Christ, yes,” Louis breathes, gathering fistfuls of duvet into his hands to hang on for dear life.

Harry leans back up and pushes inside slowly like he always does, hands on Louis’ hips and stroking his curves gently while Louis pants and adjusts and arches back into it. Louis mumbles something unintelligible into the mattress that Harry knows from years of experience means ‘fucking move,’ and Harry starts to draw out and push back in, marveling at the sight of Louis’ body rocking forward with each thrust.

“Oh shit,” Louis lifts his head to say, eyes closed and tongue lapping at dry lips. “Oh shit, oh shit. I needed this. I know the point was to comfort you but _fuck_ did I need this.”

“It’s at least as good for me as it is for you,” Harry laughs a little breathlessly, speeding up his hips as he fucks deep into Louis.

He has a habit of following through with every thrust, of connecting his hips with Louis’ with enough momentum to scoot him up the bed centimeter by centimeter, until Louis has to brace himself against the headboard to keep himself from being fucked right into it. His cock is caught between him and the pillow, the soft cotton rubbing against him with delicious friction just a touch painful and therefore exactly what he needs.

“Like that?” Harry asks when Louis cries out after a well-aimed thrust. Louis doesn’t answer --Harry knows damn well what that noise means, he’s just being a shit-- and just focuses on keeping his cool when Harry starts to run his hands up and down Louis’ sides with a gentleness that contrasts sharply with the way he fucks Louis into the mattress. Harry notices the shudder that runs through Louis’ body though, notices the tension in every muscle of Louis’ back. “Are you gonna come, baby?”

“Trying not to,” Louis answers through gritted teeth, trying to lift his head to look back at Harry and giving up halfway through. “Fuck, I’m trying not to,” he finishes into the pillows.

“If you want to come, then come,” Harry answers smoothly, slipping his hand between Louis and the pillow to wrap a hand around his cock. “That’s what I want. Why else would I fuck you face down, ass up, just like you like?”

He says it so simply that it probably doesn’t even qualify as dirty talk but Louis’ stomach lurches anyways, body stiffening and cry falling from his lips as he jerks his hips and comes into Harry’s hand without even a proper stroke. Harry doesn’t let up, either, continuing to pound into Louis with his grip tight around Louis’ cock, until Louis’ eyes are brimming with tears and his skin feels hot all over and he’s coming again, right on the heels of his first orgasm, without the breath in his lungs to do more than whine  as he writhes helplessly through another.

“Look at you, coming over and over again like a bitch in heat,” Harry groans, pressing kisses all over Louis’ neck and shoulders, leaning ever deeper into him. “You’re always so eager for me, always such a good-- fucking-- omega--”

Louis knows that Harry’s coming before he even feels the knot start to swell inside of him, because there’s a hand fisted in his hair pulling his neck to the side and Harry is biting down right overtop Louis’ mark, rebranding him for the thousandth time as his, only his, forever his.

Harry’s weight comes to rest on Louis’ back, crushing him down into the mattress as Harry spills into him with a moan, but Louis doesn’t mind. He lets his hand be guided back to feel where Harry’s knot has him stretched wide, lets his fingers play across the taut skin until Harry’s breath stutters and he nuzzles into Louis’ back with a deep growl of satisfaction.

It takes a long time for Harry’s knot to go down, so Louis is definitely well-stretched when Harry stumbles out of bed and returns with a plug that he eases inside of Louis before pulling him onto his side to be Harry’s little spoon. “Normally I don’t like the idea of anything but me inside of you,” he murmurs in response to Louis’ surprised mewl, “but I want to stay inside of you. I feel so far away.”

He’s being ridiculous of course, because his front is pressed to Louis’ back from head to toe, but Louis is full and he’s wrapped in the arms of the man he adores so he doesn’t care to mention it. “I bet you’re getting close to your rut, aren’t you? I know that growl. Silly boy, should have saved up so you could put pups inside of me.”

The jab works; Harry’s arm tightens around Louis’ waist and his hips twitch forward just the tiniest bit like an unconscious promise. “Don’t worry, Mr. Tomlinson,” he murmurs, “I’ll give you all the pups you want.”

Louis snuggles back into him and doesn’t answer, mostly because he doesn’t have to. Harry holds him close and understands, falling quickly into a deep sleep with his open mouth breathing softly over the skin of Louis’ shoulder. His left hand is tangled with Louis’ and the omega can’t help but look at their fingers all wound together in the dim light of the bedside lamp they couldn’t be bothered to get up and turn off. The soft light makes their skin glow, makes Louis’ already delicate hand look downright ethereal compared to Harry’s larger, muscled one.

But delicate does not mean weak, and Louis finds as he looks at the way they’re wrapped up together that his hands are no less intimidating for their graceful digits. It isn’t his gender that makes him great. His fingers, he muses, will look no less powerful with a ring on the fourth than they always have before, because all that his gender or his relationship or his mating status means is that he’ll soon have a new name to make others whisper.

_Mr. Styles._

 

**Author's Note:**

> Completely unrelated but if you don't follow me on tumblr and want to know the stance I take on Zayn's place in future fanworks, you can see my commentary [here](http://canonlarry.tumblr.com/post/114595474625/in-farewell-to-an-era-but-not-an-end). tl;dr - Zayn will always be a part of this fandom, whether or not he's making music with the others, and therefore he will always be a part of my works.
> 
> canonlarry | tumblr


End file.
